Gardens are an image of paradise—the paradise we left.

We hid from Him in fig leaves, and we scattered when the soldiers came.

We left God Himself to be crucified.

Yet, it is rumored He is alive yet again. It is rumored that the Garden is not a thing of the past—our Hiraeth to have a home.

We searched and could not find that Garden, anywhere in these hills.

But listen you close and give ear to my word

I tell you now where the Garden hides

Turn from Egypt, to the sea, fly

Pass through great waters

Come you up from Hades

Wander you in the desert

Eat bread from the sky

Drink you living wine

Strike not the rock—ask and He will give to you living water

Yet we struck Him—and He still gave forth blood and water

Go you forth, slay giantfolk—fear you not their strength

Long years to pass, no leaf nor golden fruit

Yet Eden drew near and we did not know

The fruit of life hanging on the tree

Reach you forth and take

with trembling

For in that fruit is a seed,

and when you eat of The Way,

Sprouts forth a true and greater path

Yea, even ‘yond River Styx, even on final day.